


In the Forest of the World

by GayRlyehian



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gay Feels, Past Character Death, The Octofam will make appearances later, Violence, emotions happen, existentialist themes with a hopeful spin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayRlyehian/pseuds/GayRlyehian
Summary: H'aanit awakens from a dream that delivers a disturbing message. Primrose struggles to maintain an identity in the aftermath of her vengeance. An ancient god hungrily awaits resurrection. New concerns rise from the ashes of the old, but time-tested bonds become only stronger still.





	In the Forest of the World

The air was hot and dry, and even within the confines of the warped and dilapidated halls and great pillars of stone, the winds swirled madly with clouds of coarse sand.    
  
H’aanit padded noiselessly across aged and worn stone tile, squinting against the wind-whipped grains that scratched at her cheeks and tossed her braid about. Beside her, Linde was crouched low, feline eyes locked on a spectral pair of red lights in the darkness between rows of great pillars ahead.    
  
The thing was unlike any beast H’aanit had ever encountered. Skeletal, and though it prowled upon all fours, its limbs bowed strangely from its body, hind legs positioned like those of a frog. Beneath charred skin a sickly ribcage protruded, internally lit with a molten red. Above that, thin shoulders and a flat-faced head with serpent-like jaw agape, revealing rows of humanoid teeth. The flesh of the monster appeared both to flow in a crest of wild tendrils along its head and spine, and to simultaneously ooze from its boney frame and slop into sizzling piles on the floor.    
  
As the Redeye crawled closer, its pelvis dragging unnaturally along the stone tile whist it uttered a strange garbled whine, terrified faces encased in stone flashed through H’aanit’s mind. The dozens of victims in the Highlands. The soldiers of Marsalim. Their brave captain.  _ Z’aanta.  _ Heated conviction bloomed in the hunter’s chest, and she raised her bow level with the beast, drawing arrow back on string as she did so.    
  
And she let the arrow fly.    
  
When it struck, the Redeye flinched away, screeching as bits of its putrid flesh blew off upon impact. Suddenly, it was moving fast. Very fast. H’aanit ducked narrowly beneath its thrusting palm, quickly moving beneath the beast as its hand crashed through a pillar. The hunter drew her axe as she ran, slicing a sizable chunk of the beast’s hind leg in two and continuing in her path to meet Linde as a second shriek resounded behind them. The pair ducked behind another pillar, edging silently about its perimeter. After taking a steadying breath, brows furrowing at the abrupt silence, the hunter carefully peered around the other side.    
  
But H’aanit was not prepared to meet the wide gaze of the Redeye, feel the putrid heat of its breath, its face level with hers, massive body crouched a mere few paces away. She flinched, ready to feel its teeth, but the beast sat back strangely and made no move to attack. Instead, it inhaled pitifully, and let the trembling breath out in a painful hiss through its teeth. The air about them shifted, clouds of sand no longer so thick and harsh, the shadows cast by the great ruins not quite so daunting.    
  
As H'aanit watched, the Redeye broke with a gasping sob through its gaping, serpentine maw. “T-they took her from me,” the creature choked in its twin voices through rasping breaths, covering its face despairingly with both hands, “They took her from me and now even  _ I _ am a stranger to myself!” The beast moaned with unabashed agony, long fingers grasping the edges of its face harshly, “And soon they will take  _ him  _ too. I cannot stop them... I cannot stop them!”    
  
Cold fingers closed about the hunter’s heart at the words. The Redeye released a tortured shudder, but H’aanit reached out a hand, placed it on one of its twisted paws. For a moment she left it there, a gentle assurance of her new intentions. Carefully, she peeled the appendage away from the creature’s face, peeled it back and knew as she did so that something would be irreversibly changed.    
  
In place of the red-eyed horror, the tear-streaked visage of her dear friend, Primrose, stared back at H’aanit.    
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
The hunter awoke with a start, sweat-slicked palm clasped tightly around the haft of her axe. Linde was already on her feet, sniffing at H’aanit’s nose with concern. Taking a moment to regain her bearings and slow the rapid beat of her heart, H’aanit stroked Linde’s face soothingly and breathed deep. In reply, Linde gave her cheek a lick.    
  


The nightmare had come now and again ever since defeating the Redeye, but never like it had that night. Each time before, it had been some skewed replay of the battle wherein the beast struggled with itself and its unknowable pain in an eerily human fashion, and H’aanit eventually put it down. It hadn’t ever  _ spoken _ like that before, and it certainly hadn’t ever transformed into anyone she knew.    
  
H’aanit felt strangely like the dead creature was still desperately trying to tell her something. Perhaps, though not purposefully, Primrose was, too.    
  
With her thoughts straying to the dancer, H’aanit glanced toward her bedding and realized the tent was short an occupant. Strange that it just so happened to be  _ that _ occupant, but perhaps the hunter wasn’t the only one plagued with troubled sleep. It would not be shocking for someone with a past as troubled as Primrose’s to have sleepless nights.    
  
As the hunter briefly reflected, Linde slipped outside through the loosely-tied flap, already ahead of her mistress. H’aanit sighed through her nose, reassured by her feline companion’s casual bearing that nothing was amiss, and got to her feet.    
  
All along the dark canvas of the early morning sky, the celestial bodies shone brightly with a quiet pride, casting the wooded, mountainous lands below in their silver light. During the spring, the air in the Highlands was chill enough at night to discourage most insects, for which H’aanit was thankful. 

  
Glancing about as she stretched, H’aanit first noticed Olberic’s broad back at the opposite end of the camp. It was his watch. She considered checking on him, but decided against it for the moment and looked back to Linde. The great cat had padded straight over to their previously missing friend, who was seated on a fallen log in the shade of a cluster of trees at one corner of the camp.    
  
While the expression on Primrose's face at first seemed deeply melancholic, she brightened upon feeling Linde's soft head press into her idle hand. With Primrose scratching behind Linde’s ears and cooing softly to her, the snow leopard’s purring seemed loud enough to awaken the rest of the camp. Unable to suppress a fond smile, the hunter made her way quietly toward the pair.    
  
“Hast thou room for one more?” H’aanit playfully inquired, voice low so as not to disturb the sleepers.    
  
With a soft smile, Primrose turned to the hunter, still scratching beneath Linde’s chin with one hand. “You’re up early, H’aanit. Even for you.” Her tone was friendly yet wistful, not quite present. “Come sit. Of course there’s room for you.”    
  
H’aanit smiled, warmed by the welcome, and seated herself a respectful distance away from the dancer on the same fallen tree. Primrose valued the space around her the way only a person who’d had it utterly violated innumerable times before did, and H’aanit refused to infringe upon that space unless otherwise permitted.    
  
She recalled, for a second, that tear-streaked expression of agony from her dreams.    
  
For a time, a calm quiet overtook them. While Primrose continued lavishing attention on Linde, H’aanit looked out over the waters of a small nearby pond, thoughtfully observing the reflections of the cosmos overhead in its smooth surface. She considered catching something from it for the morning’s breakfast, but it wasn’t likely to hold many large fish, if any, and certainly not enough for the entire group. Her gaze shifted to the edge of the dark woods, knowing it to be abundant with all manner of prey. They had enough supplies for several meals without hunting for food, but it was more ideal to stretch them out.    
  
“So,” Primrose began, interrupting H’aanit’s straying thoughts, “what has dared awaken H’aanit of the Darkwood in the midst of her beauty slumber?” The dancer turned away from Linde, who she was still pampering with scratches, to smile slyly at H’aanit. Linde continued to purr obnoxiously. H’aanit returned Primrose’s cheeky grin with a small smile of her own.    
  
“Dark dreams,” the hunter answered, gaze drifting again to the starry surface of the pond. “The Redeye still doth not deign to departen from mine unconscious mind.” She shifted into a more comfortable sitting position on the log, her brow furrowing as she thought. “But the beast delivereth a new message this night. One that doth trouble me greatly.” H’annit recalled the rattling, pained breaths of the creature, its wails of grief, of loss, the cold feeling in her gut.   
  
“That horrible beast haunts you still?” The blatant concern in Primrose’s voice drew H’aanit’s attention back to her. She had turned to face the hunter, brows furrowed, hazel eyes searching her own.    
  
H’aanit nodded solemnly, “T’would seem that I have unfinished business yet.”   
  
At this, Primrose looked suddenly pensive. She stared at H’aanit for a few long moments before sighing, shaking her head to herself sadly. “If only our monsters would leave us be, hm?”    
  
The dancer turned slightly away from H’aanit, arms loosely wrapped around herself. Before the hunter could question her, a chill breeze passed through and H’aanit became more aware of Primrose’s lack of warm clothing. Whatever brought her away from sleep must have distraught the dancer enough to cause her to forgo her cloak. Just as Primrose began to shiver, H’aanit removed the fur mantle from her own shoulders and placed it around the dancer’s. Primrose looked surprised for a split second before pulling the fur, which was much larger on her than on H’aanit, closer around herself with a grateful smile.    
  
“Always so chivalrous,” She teased, eyes sparkling with fondness as she sidled up close to the hunter.    
  
H’aanit felt her cheeks warm, but replied honestly, “I am always available to thee should thou needest warmth or companionship.” Seeing the glint of mischief in Primrose's eye at that statement and knowing some especially flirtatious remark was bound to follow, H'aanit quickly brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. “If I might asken, what dreweth thee out of thy bed at such an hour? Thou spake of monsters.”   
  
When Primrose’s expression darkened at the inquiry, her eyes losing their shine and dropping away again, H’aanit nearly grimaced. She had known it was unlikely to be a pleasant subject, but the hunter would normally allow Primrose herself to broach the topic. It was a misstep she would be more cautious of taking again. But H’aanit remained silent and waited.    
  
“...I dreamt of them again.” Primrose began after a long pause, “Yusufa, and my father.” She paused again, staring at the ground in front of her and inhaling through her nose as if bracing herself. When she began again, it was sudden, as if pushed out with force, “I dreamt of sitting in my father’s lap while he read my favorite book to me for the hundredth time. Of sneaking out of the tavern with Yusufa, watching the stars from the Sunshade rooftops as she divulged all of her fantastical plans of escape and world travel with me,  _ me _ of all people...somewhere far away from Sunshade, where she was much more than just some vile man’s property.” Primrose huddled deeper within H’aanit’s fur cloak, her fingers clutching hard at the material. “And she was, to me…” She paused, staring hard at the ground. Linde had stopped purring, had curled quietly around the dancer’s feet. “...And then...and then I awoke.”    
  
H’aanit smothered the strong urge to reach out and embrace Primrose, to soothe her pain, calm her disquiet, and instead patiently listened as she continued.    
  
“It happens, now and again. That I dream of them. It isn’t that it’s new...” Primrose chuckled humorlessly, quickly sobering as she spoke, “But...Simeon is dead. Gods, but I shall never forget goring the sick bastard and watching his life bleed away.” The dancer inhaled deeply through her nose, shutting her eyes softly, resigned, as she released it. “And still I feel the hollow left by the ones he took from me. I’d known all along that killing him was never going to bring them back, but...” One of her hands was clenched into a tight, white-knuckled fist. She took another moment, and expelled a strained sigh. “It...well, it gets me thinking.”    
  
Primrose finally seemed to lose the far-off look in her eyes and turned to look into H’aanit’s, suddenly very present, “You…” Her brow crinkled, and she paused to move a hand from beneath the fur and grasp one of H’aanit’s, “The seven of you have become like...like family to me. You mean more than you could know.” As her hand squeezed over scarred knuckles, Primrose released a trembling breath, and H’aanit heard the tears on it. With great care, the hunter gently flipped her hand over in the dancer’s grasp, palm up, and laced her fingers tightly with Primrose’s. The dancer suddenly couldn’t seem to look her in the eye again, instead turning to gaze into the distance as she choked down tears. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost any of you, after everything...I don’t know how I would survive it.”    
  
The wind picked up again, combing gently through the treetops and carrying soft rustling sounds with it. The stars above shone unceasingly, and crickets continued their dark song, paying no heed to the pair of women seated on the fallen tree.    
  
For a time, H’aanit simply sat beside Primrose, thumb gently brushing back and forth over the soft skin of the back of her hand, over and between each knuckle. The hunter listened to the dancer’s muffled sobs, felt her slim fingers squeeze her own, calloused digits. There was nothing that she resented more at that moment than all of the things which had caused Primrose to hurt so much, and to fear so intensely even the mere potential for ill to befall her newfound family. H’aanit wanted to hold Primrose close and banish those fears, soothe away the harshest of her grief.    
  
Truly, the hunter understood the fear. During her entire pursuit of the Redeye, she carried intense anxiety and dread surrounding the uncertainty of Z’aanta’s fate. And later, when the curtains of Simeon’s scheme nearly closed on Primrose’s life and she lay onstage in a pool of her own blood, H’aanit had never felt such potent fear in her life as she had for the dancer, and savage hate for the man who betrayed her. Though everything turned out for the better in the end, it was impossible to know how that loss would have changed her. And H’aanit didn’t ever want to know.    
  
But the night went on, the sky becoming brighter by the moment. It was too late to return to bed.    
  
H’aanit’s attention was once again brought back to the present by a subdued sniffle from the woman seated beside her, and she gave the soft fingers in her hand a gentle squeeze. Primrose finally looked at her again, and her eyes were so lost to grief that H’aanit dropped any ideas of reassuring words at the sight.    
  
“If it pleasen thee...” she said, opening her arms invitingly to the dancer, and before she could form the remainder of her request, Primrose’s brow scrunched up with emotion and she dove into the hunter’s arms, embracing her fiercely.    
  
“Stay here with me, please.” Primrose whispered, her head resting on H’aanit’s shoulder. The hunter’s arms wound around her back, holding Primrose close as she murmured, “There is naught I woulde rather doen.”    
  
And the stars above continued to shine, though gradually dimming with the light of approaching dawn, and the crickets continued their dark song, paying no heed to the pair of women seated on the fallen tree.   


**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Been crunching time to write this between two part-time jobs and college. These gays are so worth it. 
> 
> More chapters are planned! Whenever I can get around to writing them. Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
